


Sweet Lavender

by Kestrealbird



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cute Date, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Ignis is head over heels honestly, M/M, Prompto has a Motorbike, Sequel to Helpless, Sweetness, brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 22:49:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13468212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Day 3: First Kiss“We’ll be fine,” Prompto tells him as they stop next to his bike.“Oh yes,” he agrees, drily, “it isn’t like we’re sneaking outside of the Wall without permission or anything. What could possibly go wrong?”“Well,” Prompto chirps, seating himself with practiced ease and starting the engine, “we don't have any helmets.”“Wonderful.”





	Sweet Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled: Lavenders Blue Dilly Dilly
> 
> This is a sequel to my other fic Helpless (written for Day 1 of Promnisweek) but you don't have to read that one to understand this one it just adds a bit more backstory is all. I am incredibly grateful for all the comments and support I've gotten in this fandom as a writer and I really hope to write more for yall in the future. 
> 
> as always shoutout to [Eli](http://onpanwa.tumblr.com/) for being my amazing Beta this week

“This is a bad idea,” Ignis says, even though he makes no move to stop Prompto from dragging him to his motorbike. “We’re going to get in trouble for this.” Prompto laughs, cheerful and not the least bit worried.

He has these moments, sometimes, Ignis has discovered, of pure spontaneity. He isn’t all that against them, and they don't surprise him as much as they used to. They’ve been dating for almost a year now, and it would’ve been longer had Ignis’ pining not gotten in the way. The only reason they’d managed to get together was because Prompto had finally confessed and explained, in his own words, “if I waited for you I’d have one foot in the grave already.” Cheeky brat.

So, yeah, they’re dating, and despite it being one year of the fact, Ignis still isn’t used to this feeling. They’ve held hands and gone on dates and cuddled in bed together, but they’ve never gone any further with their touches. Kisses stay on the cheeks, nose, forehead but never on the mouth. They’re not necessarily going _slow_ , it’s just that Ignis wants their first kiss to be _perfect_ in both atmosphere and execution.

The problem is that they’re always interrupted somehow, and no amount of apologies can stop Ignis’ suspicions when most of those interruptions come from Gladio. He swears he just has the worst timing known to man, but it’s just as likely that he gets a kick out of driving Ignis insane.

Prompto’s annoyed with it, too, but he isn't as obvious about it as Ignis is. Ever the patient one, he is.

It’s nice, though, to come home and find someone waiting for him with warm drinks and an ear for gossip. He can’t gossip with Gladio because the man can't keep a secret to save his own skin, and Ignis still hasn’t forgiven him for accidentally ruining someone’s marriage. Noctis hates to gossip about people’s lives, which...fair enough, to be honest. He doesn’t feel comfortable gossiping with the King, unlike Prompto, which is odd when you really think about it but then Prompto has always been a bit odd, in comparison to everyone else.

He isn’t odd in a bad way he’s just…odd.

Where most people would look at a sewer rat and think ‘disgusting’ Prompto would look at one and say ‘how’s your day been?’ He’ll greet every magpie he meets with a ‘good morning’ and count the amount of squirrels he sees in a day, and he’ll take a photo of practically everything and everyone, for no other reason than simply ‘I felt like it.’

So he’s odd, but it’s endearing and intriguing. He laughs when he sees Ignis colour coordinating their socks because he thinks it’s a little bit silly, but he knows it’s an important thing to Ignis so he helps out anyway, and he loves to wash Ignis’ hair even though the feel of gel running through his fingers is a bad sensation for him. He’s always got a song or five in his heart, even on the worst of days.

Prompto never makes the same mistake twice, because he’s willing to learn and adapt from them if you point said mistake out to him. He’s an amazing shot, one of the best Ignis has ever seen, even if he has a lot of reservations about accepting Noct’s proposal and becoming a Crownsguard. Ignis wishes that he will, if only to make the Citadel a little more exciting.

His spontaneity has gotten them in trouble more than a few times, yet Ignis can’t say he’s any better. There’s no point getting pissy about Prompto starting a food fight in a four star restaurant when Ignis was the one who decided to try and drive in reverse for an entire day just to prove a point.

“We’ll be fine,” Prompto tells him as they stop next to his bike.

The bike is a pastel yellow, with chibi chocobo decals scattered over it and on the side, in neat emerald cursive, is the word ‘Saoirse’. Ignis had come up with the name ages ago, and in Tenebrae it meant ‘freedom’. At the time, Prompto had asked him to write down how it was spelt and he hadn't thought much of it, at first. The next time Ignis saw the bike, Saoirse was written on the side in his own handwriting, glittering up at him in the boldest declaration of love he’d ever known.

His first response to seeing it had been, naturally, to cry and it was the perfect moment to kiss his boyfriend but, _of course_ , as per the usual, Gladio had decided to interrupt them by calling Prompto’s phone and asking him to pick up Iris from school.

Ignis still felt bitter about it, but the soft feelings he got whenever he saw Saoirse far outweighed the bitterness. For once.

“Oh yes,” he agrees, drily, “it isn’t like we’re sneaking outside of the Wall without permission or anything. What could possibly go wrong?”

“Well,” Prompto chirps, seating himself with practiced ease and starting the engine, “we don't have any helmets.”

“Wonderful.” He gets on behind Prompto anyway, because they’ve done this song and dance before, even if the first time he got on this bike he fell off the back. He’s learned his lesson since then, so he wraps his arms around Prompto’s waist to steady himself, and leans his head on Prompto’s shoulder with a huff.

He never gets used to the feeling of the bike’s engine; it vibrates through him more than a car does, but it isn’t entirely unpleasant. Prompto gets a certain _thrill_ out of it, because he knows how hard it is to handle a motorbike and he likes the danger it holds; the _freedom_ it gives him.

Insomnia is vast, with layers of character and twisting roads, some of them hidden behind metaphorical veils, and others acting as daring shortcuts for anyone who wants to risk a bumpy ride on roads that curl like tree roots and lead into the sky, where vehicles temporarily gain their own wings and fly onto buildings. This city never sleeps, even now when the only light in the darkness is made from buildings, cars, phones and street lamps.

Prompto navigates the roads and shortcuts with a practiced ease and diligence that never fails to leave Ignis breathlessly in awe of his skills. He avoids doing any dangerous stunts - this time - because he’s determined to take Ignis outside of the Wall and show him the stars in all their splendour.

“Think of it as a date,” he’d said, knowing full well that Ignis had nothing else to look forward to tonight. He made sure to bring food with him just in case, because past experience had taught him that their excursions usually lasted much longer than either of them had planned.

Watching the city pass by them was calming, in its own way, and when they came upon a particularly bumpy road or sharp corner, well, it just gave Ignis an excuse to hug Prompto even tighter. Prompto knows better than to think it’s a coincidence, but he’s kind enough not to point out how affectionate Ignis actually is.

It takes almost four hours, even with all the shortcuts, to get to the Wall. Ignis feels nervous. He’s been out there before, but never without less than three other people, and even then he’s only left during the day. His stomach clenches with nervous energy, his hands shaking against Prompto’s abdomen.

They stop just before the wall, the bikes engine ticking over. Ignis frowns.

“We’ll be okay,” Prompto whispers to him, placing an arm around his stomach so he can grip onto Ignis’ wrist. “I promise-” and there’s steel in his voice, strong and unbreakable- “that we’ll both be fine. Nothing will happen to us.”

That’s completely false. A lot could happen to them. Prompto had snuck out into the night before, so he knows where the Daemons tend to appear, but that doesn't mean they’re completely _predictable_ . What he should do is tell Prompto to turn back so they can get Gladio and Noctis just in case something goes awry. Instead he nods against Prompto’s shoulder, and simply _breathes_. “Okay.”

There’s a moment, while they wait for Ignis to completely steady his breathing, when Prompto starts humming something that sounds familiar to Ignis’ ears. The tune is off and it’s obvious he doesn't remember how the second verse goes, but Scarborough Fair has never sounded as beautiful as it does in this moment.

It brings forth domestic images: waking up to the smell of breakfast and the sound of Prompto singing something or other in the kitchen; their first dance, when Ignis tripped over someone’s dog and went falling into a fountain, bringing Prompto down with him so they both ended up soaking wet, laughter bright in their faces; that very first meeting so long ago when Ignis fell in love almost immediately.

It calms him down enough that he hums along, eyes closed, a soft smile on his lips. Prompto moves the bike slowly as they go through the Wall, the magic passing over them like harmless lightning and fire, crackling as they drive through it with a sense of gentle serenity.

They don’t stop driving until they come to a particular clearing, nothing but the sound of plants rustling and the nearby river to break the silence once Saoirse’s engine is cut off.

Prompto, Ignis noted, smelled like something sweet - but then again, he always did. It was a natural scent, something that was just a part of who he was. Ignis’ scent, according to Prompto, always had an undercurrent of bitterness. Probably coffee.

He wobbled a little as he got off the bike, Prompto’s hand a steady weight on his back. He opened his mouth to say his thanks, but his words died in his throat before they could even form. Prompto was looking up at the night sky, and in his eyes Ignis saw a perfect reflection of the stars. He looked up to see if the colours matched, too, his breath catching in his throat at the sight.

The sky was alight in a myriad arrangement of blue and purple, the stars spreading like a thick blanket everywhere he looked. The horizon was a pale green, and the longer he stared the more he could practically _feel_ the organic push and pull of life’s magic in the air.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes, though words cannot explain how truly magnificent the sky looks before him. Prompto leans against his shoulder, interlocks their arms and then holds his hand, and when Ignis looks down he sees a soft, content expression on his boyfriend’s face.

They’re standing in a literal field of lavenders, with Eos’ most gorgeous sky above them in all its splendour, yet Ignis cannot take his eyes away from Prompto. He isn’t sure what it is that compels him to do this now, of all times - perhaps it’s the atmosphere, or maybe even the sudden surge of love that fills his heart - but he tilts Prompto’s face up, hesitating for the briefest of moments too long, because Prompto huffs, impatient, and surges up to press their lips together.

Ignis doesn't expect the movement so their teeth clack together, and their mouths are off centre, but it’s soft, regardless. It isn’t exactly the perfect execution he’d planned out in his head, but it’s the perfect atmosphere, so he supposes that makes up for it, in a way.

The second kiss is less hurried, the taste of something sweet lingering in his mouth and the smell of lavender wrapping around them both like a silken veil, ingraining this one moment in time forever.  The kisses that follow are just as soft, each one followed by either peaceful silence or hushed laughter. They end up staying out for hours, eventually laying on the grass, painting stories in the sky, not moving until a couple of disgruntled Glaives come out to collect them.

They don't feel the slightest bit guilty, even as Sir Amicitia chastises them for being reckless. It probably doesn't help that His Majesty looks more bemused than anything, and secretly gives them a thumbs-up behind Clarus’ back.


End file.
